Innocuous
by Jayneysuk
Summary: Part 1 Dr Clarkson and Mrs Hughes share a cup of tea, how innocuous is that? Part 2 Dr Clarkson makes a house call and two maybe company but three proves to be a crowd. This is set post war but pre season three. It may eventually become cannon or it may stay as random stories.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Innocuous **  
**Pairing: Richard Clarkson/Elsie Hughes**  
**Rating: K**  
**Spoilers: Nothing specific but set sometime after the war.**  
**Summary: Dr Clarkson invites someone in for a little tea and innocuous conversation.**  
**Authors notes: While my muse has decided to leave Bates wallowing in self pity, it decided Dr Clarkson needed a little interaction. This is the result. A one off I think although the pairing does keep swirling around in mind

**Innocuous**

Spring time in Yorkshire could bring a bracing wind and rain showers one minute, with occasional flurries of snow another and oftentimes a warm sunny afternoon. The day was proving no different.

When he woke up at six and made his way through the village to the hospital it had been close to freezing outside, the wind swirling around his ankles, now as the clock struck two it was almost balmy, sun warming his skin. Richard leaned against the door frame and watched the few patients that were well enough wander through the garden. It was a moments respite in what had otherwise been a busy day and it wasn't over yet. A movement in the distance caught his eye and he turned, a smile crossing his features as he recognised the owner of the sombre winter coat immediately.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Hughes," he called quickly as she walked past the hospital gate.

Elsie stopped, her brow furrowing as she recognised the familiar voice, and took a step back. "Good afternoon, Doctor Clarkson."

"Half day?" he asked, prolonging the conversation and casually walking towards her. He couldn't help but grin at the look of surprise on her face. It was probably a bit unusual for him to strike up a conversation with her, in the past it had been her to make the opening gambit, but they were living in unusual times. The end of the war had signalled a new era. With the soldiers gone, his work had returned to the routine of pre-war. While there was still plenty of work to keep him busy the sacrifice of so many had encouraged that life was short and for the living. Not that he'd had much chance to live as yet except a rare day off by the sea and a drive up on the moors. Today he just longed for a conversation with someone who wasn't a nurse or a patient.

She nodded. "Just running some errands." Her bag dangled precariously from her hand as she stood there staring at him, her brow furrowed.

He waited for her to say something further but she continued to stand there. "Would you like some tea?"

Elsie raised an eyebrow, taken aback by his invitation. He could have invited her to his cottage for a rendezvous and she wouldn't have been more surprised. "Tea?"

"Yes." It wasn't that difficult to comprehend surely, he thought, that he was inviting her to share a brew. So he was a little out of practice living in a village and having lived through a war that left him with little time to do anything but work, but in the old days invitations were accepted or declined, rarely questioned. "I was going to make a pot before rounds. If you have time maybe you could join me," he explained, hoping that the expression on her face wasn't one of horror.

She pondered the nature of his invitation, weighing up a lifetime of considerations it seemed before she nodded. "I think I would like that."**  
****  
**Richard held out his arm and indicated the door to the hospital with his hand.

His office was everything she would expect of him, deeply masculine with dark panelled walls, and oversized pieces of furniture, cluttered with years of accumulated belongings; his desk over flowing with papers. In one corner of the room sat a low metal bed, blankets neatly folded on one end. Her eyes were drawn to it, an image of the man she had always seen as professional and distant changing before her eyes. She imagined instead him crawling between the sheets after a long night on the ward, exhausted and emotional drained. She allowed her mind to wonder further, to contemplate aspects of the man rather than the doctor, a more fantastical image springing to mind. She licked her lips unconsciously, her cheeks tingeing pink before forcing herself to look at the bookcase. As she scanned the titles, nothing in his small collection of books told her much about the private man, only that he had read around his subject well.

"Tea will arrive shortly," he announced, appearing in the doorway.

Elsie turned and smiled, only mildly embarrassed at being caught out nosing around his office.

"You've never been in here before," he stated flatly.

She shook her head. "I don't really have time to be sick," she admitted sardonically. "It gets in the way of running Downton."

"And taking care of everyone else," he offered, his tone not betraying his thoughts. Mrs Hughes would have made a good nurse, he often thought. On his frequent calls to the servants quarters it was always her that he found himself explaining medication to, her that hovered just beyond the doors as he assessed patients. He knew the servants thought her stoic and uptight but he had witnessed the compassion in her. Circling around her, he made his way towards the window. "I chose this room myself. When we established the hospital. The sun streams through the window in the morning."

"Which means you can be up and dressed before anyone realises you never left." She swallowed hard and looked away, surprised at herself for her tit for tat comment.

"You have me," he admitted with a twitch of his lips, holding his hands up. Folding his arms over his chest, he turned from the window to look at her. "And you, you probably don't sleep in your sitting room. Whatever time you finish up you climb all those stairs and you get one of the scullery maids to wake you first?"

Her afternoon off, she had to admit was taking on a form she hadn't expected. She always thought that she kept herself hidden, years of disappearing behind the propriety of service working in her favour but he seemed to understand her, to have noticed her. "Daisy knocks before she is even dressed."

His smile widened. "And you're always the last one to head up."

"That depends on how stubborn and pigheaded Mr Carson is being," she chuckled.

Richard nodded. It had been impulsive and maybe a little risky for him to invite her for tea, but in this case his impulse had been right. She was exactly the distraction he needed from his work. He opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind, rethinking the direction of the conversation. "My office faces onto the garden. In the summer I get to admire the roses, in the autumn I get to watch the leaves turn."

Elsie made her way to the window and stood beside him, her shoulder barely inches from him. A faint scent of cologne drifted into her direction and she found herself momentarily thrown. She couldn't remember the last time she had been alone with a man who wasn't Mr Carson or his Lordship, and after so many years they didn't really count. Her mothers warnings echoed in her ears and her mind frantically searched for something innocuous to say. "And in Spring time you get to see the birds reappear."

A knock on the open door startled them both and they moved apart, unconsciously.

"Thank you, nurse, please leave it on the desk."

She crossed the room, placed the tray in the middle of his chaos and left as quickly as she had arrived, closing the door behind her.

"Please take a seat," he urged. "How do you take your tea?"

"A little milk, no sugar please." Elsie settled herself in the visitors chair, placing her bag and gloves on the floor beside her. Now that she was seated, a sense of formality had returned, the professionalism with which they had conducted themselves throughout the war restored. She had enjoyed working with him in the big house, not least because of the way he had instructed her rather than bark orders. There seemed to be a mutual respect between them and she had often drawn him out, taking comfort in the sound of his Scottish idiom. A few shared words in a crowded room was a long way from the two them sharing tea though.

Richard poured tea into two cups, adding milk to both and sugar to his own before he handed her a saucer. "You're wondering how an earth I can find anything," he commented dryly. He leaned in almost conspiratorially. "At the end of every day I have to spend an hour at my desk putting order to the chaos, filing everything I can and filling out charts. By lunchtime the next day this is what you get." He moved around the desk and settled himself in the other visitor chair.

"And if I may be bold, do you have the same system in the cottage?" she asked, her tone taking on an unfamiliar mischievous tone.

He glanced away briefly. _Come and find out_ he wanted to say, and he had no idea why. "I have someone who comes in and rectifies the situation."

"A housekeeper?"

"More of a housemaid." The young woman that cleaned three times a week and did his laundry was nothing like the housekeeper sat before him.

"The distinction being?" Elsie asked, curious as to how he valued her job.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her over his cup. "She doesn't run my house, or my life or me." He hoped he hadn't offended her with his sweeping response.

Elsie allowed herself a small chuckle. "Maybe that's what you need." She indicated the clutter on every surface.

"You think I need a women to run my life?" Richard asked, his tone laced with amusement and mock horror. "I think I have quite enough women in my life trying to run it for me."

She hesitated, biting her lower lip but he was looking at her, his expression almost challenging her to speak. "And I thought Mrs Crawley was engaged with aiding refugees."

Richard had the good graces to chuckle. "I have a hospital full of young nurses. . ."**  
****  
**"Who acquiesce to your every whim," she continued, warmth in her tone.

"You think I have them wrapped around my little finger?" If only, he thought.

"I'm sure you can be a little intimidating when you wish."

Richard took a lengthy sip from his cup before he said quietly,"But not to you Mrs Hughes."

She rolled her eyes. "No, not to me. I've spent twenty years or more learning how to deal with intimidating men."

"You can be a little intimidating yourself," he mused. "I've seen the way the maids scurry when you enter a room."

Elsie placed the china saucer on his desk as she offered mock-sternly, "I have you know I've spent years cultivating that persona."

"Doesn't it all get a little bit lonely at times?" Maybe he was projecting but being in charge left you with few people to share the burden with and it couldn't be easy for her in a similar position.

"In a house like Downton it's often preferable to find a little solitude," she offered wistfully.

Richard lowered his voice and leaned in towards her. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant. This is what I'm good at. I've worked hard to get where I am and I enjoy running Downton. I made my choice years ago." She paused briefly, turning to study him, her thoughts drifting naturally to the choices he himself had made.

"You're wondering why I never married."

"No," she responded too quickly, she knew.

His eyebrows quirked up in question.

"It wouldn't be polite to ask."

"Oh, Mrs Hughes, please ask."

"Aren't doctors supposed to fall in love in nurses and make them doctors' wives?" There she had said it and he was still smiling inanely at her.

He laughed then, deep and rumbling. "Aren't housekeepers supposed to settle down and marry butlers?" His laughter faltered in his chest at the look on her face. "I'm sorry I've offended you." He mentally cursed himself but they had fallen into familiarity and it seemed natural to continue the gentle teasing.

"No," she said, the smile failing to reach her eyes. "I should go run my errands if I'm going to make it back for dinner."

He watched as she rose to her feet, gathering her belongings, avoiding his eyes. Rising with her, he mentally chided himself on being so stupid. Waiting until she reached the door, her hand poised to open it, he remarked quietly, "In answer to your question, I've never been very good at doing what I'm supposed to do."

Elsie turned to look at him, a small but happy smile forming on her lips. "Neither, Dr Clarkson, am I."

Richard felt his lips rise upwards as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It could have been a throw away comment but her smile suggested it was more than that.

"Goodbye, Dr Clarkson. Thank you for the tea."

His mind still reeling from her comment he barely managed to call out "Goodbye, Mrs Hughes," before she disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter 2

It would seem I am not quite done with these two. not sure whether there will be more or whether it is destined to be a two shot but all comments gratefully received.

A** House Call**

Richard climbed the stairs to the female quarters. "You really didn't have to accompany me, Mrs Crawley," he stated kindly for what seemed the hundredth time. Since his arrival she had been practically glued to his side, listening intently as Carson had explained the situation and insisting on accompanying him through the house. Despite their many years of friendship, she could be the most frustrating and annoying woman he had ever known, and on this particular occasion he had been quite happy to carry out his visit alone.

"I thought it might be best if you had a chaperone. You know how these girls are prone to exaggeration and fantasy," she explained, enunciating her point with a theatrical wave of her hand. "I may be the only thing standing between you and the complete dissolution of your reputation," she laughed lightly.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation just as they rounded the corner and he caught sight of the housekeeper hovering in the corridor.

"I can assure you, Mrs Crawley, that his reputation will remain in tact. I have no intention of allowing him entry to the girls room without being present myself." Mrs Hughes offered a small smile to soften the edge to her words, biting her tongue and swallowing the retort that threatened to drip off her tongue at the very implication that she may not be doing her job correctly.

"Of course," Isobel agreed with a hint of fluster. "Maybe we should both be there, in case they should need nursing care or the doctor needs assistance."

Richard resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and shot Elsie a look which wasn't hard to decipher. "I'm sorry," he mouthed as they followed Isobel down the hallway to the open door.

Elsie shrugged, all too aware of Mrs Crawley and her ways. It didn't bother her all that much, after all she knew her place and if Mrs Crawley decided she wasn't welcome in the room, she would be waiting outside.

He smiled at her again and she found herself smiling back, a strange fluttering feeling in her tummy as his eyes locked with hers. "Ruth and Margery started feeling sick yesterday. I thought perhaps it was something they ate." She hoped the sensation in her stomach wasn't an indication that she was coming down with it too.

"I wouldn't let Mrs Patmore hear you say that," he whispered conspiratorially.

She pulled a face. "Well she has been trying out new recipes again."

He nodded by way of understanding, thinking back to the simple soup and bread he had been eating for the last few days, which was an improvement on the days he forgot to eat at all. "So what changed your mind, Mrs Hughes?"

Isobel had stopped walking and was waiting at the door way, her arms folded across her chest, head cocked on one side as she watched the two of them. She was, she had to admit, a little jealous. For all the times she had contrived for the two of them to be alone, he had never glanced at her like that or strayed from the familiar professional tone he used with everyone. It had reached the point where she was giving up all hope of him ever acknowledging her as more than a member of the Crawley family.

"Margery has been throwing up most of the day, and no one else seems to have gotten sick. They were both complaining of cramping, and Ruth was so bad I found her bent over on the floor."

"Very well. I'll examine both of them," he agreed, furrowing his brow as he considered the possible causes of their incapacitation. Indicating that she should lead the way, he waited for Isobel to follow and then entered himself, closing the door behind him.

"The doctor just wants to take a look at you," Elsie explained gently, placing herself between the girls and the visitors. It's nothing to worry about. He won't hurt you. You know Mrs Crawley; she and myself are going to stay."

The two girls looked too pale and exhausted to argue as the doctor washed his hands in the bowl of fresh water Elsie had fetched before he arrived, and moved towards them. Ignoring the two older women he moved between the two girls, carrying out a careful examination, asking a series of questions before returning to the bowl and re-washing his hands.

"I'm pretty sure they have stomach flu," he explained in a tone barely above a whisper. "It should clear up in a few days with rest. In the meantime it's highly contagious."

"I can quarantine them up here and nurse them myself," Elsie suggested, glancing back at the two girls, curled up beneath the blankets.

She was wonderfully selfless he had to admit; it was a quality he rather liked about her. "You could get sick too." The last thing Richard wanted was for her to get ill, not least because he imagined she was a terrible patient, and the fact that if she needed him as a doctor, he couldn't imagine her ever taking tea with him again.

"So tell me what I need to do," she said matter of factly, not in the least put out.

Isobel was the one who spoke. "They will need plenty of fluids, and nothing solid for a few days. Any towels will need to be washed separately and the chamber pot will need to be disinfected regularly."

"Wear gloves," Richard instructed, his eyes never leaving her face despite the older woman's interruption. "Mostly, they will need rest."

"That doesn't sound too taxing," Elsie said with a smile, making her way to the end of one of the beds. "Try and get some sleep, girls. I'll show the doctor out and check on you later. You'll be fine in a few days." The girls mumbled something inaudible to the occupants of the room and Elsie nodded and smiled. "Shall we," she said, crossing to the door and opening it widely. "Thank you for coming out, doctor."

He shrugged, "it's no problem. If you think there's no improvement by tomorrow night I'd be happy to call again." The chances were the minute the family heard what ailed the servants at least one of them would come down with it and he would be spending another evening at the Abbey. It should, he supposed, annoy him, but in truth it kept him busy and allowed him to keep the hospital running for the patients who really needed his help.

"Can I get you something from the kitchen?" Elsie shook her head and chuckled mildly. "You did say it wasn't food poisoning and we did drag you away from your supper."

"I'm sure cousin Robert wouldn't mind if you joined us," Isobel offered, not completely oblivious to the way the doctor was looking at the housekeeper and not entirely comfortable with the situation.

Richard turned briefly to look at her. "That's very kind Mrs Crawley but I've eaten thank you." As much as three spoonfuls of soup and a piece of bread and butter could be called supper, he mused.

"At least let me make you some coffee for your trouble," Elsie suggested, finally closing the bedroom door and waiting for them to start down the hallway.

"Some coffee would be nice," He acknowledged with a grin, wondering whether he could convince her to join him for a while. "I can write you up for some more medicine, something to settle their stomachs and for anyone that shows any symptoms."

Elsie turned to the lady hovering behind them. "And for you, Mrs Crawley."

Isobel shook her head and replied regretfully, "I should get back to the dinner."

"Please don't let us keep you," Richard said, trying to keep the relief from his voice. "Thank you for your time."

"I'll speak to you tomorrow, doctor," she said with a distinct air of dissatisfaction. "Mrs Hughes."

As Isobel disappeared down the corridor and round the corner, Elsie fell into step beside the doctor. "Thank you so much for coming out tonight. They really aren't the sort of girls to try and avoid work with feeble excuses so I knew there was something to it. Now let me get you that coffee. I can set it up in the library if you wish," she offered, leading him down the servants stairs and through the green door.

"I'd be quite happy in your sitting room." He had barely seen her since that day in his office, and certainly not alone. In church they had greeted each other perfunctorily before taking their usual pews at opposite sides of the aisle, but he had never caught her again making errands or found a proper excuse for having her call at his office. Now he had a legitimate reason for talking to her and he was in no rush to go home.

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, one eyebrow arched in surprise.

"It's been a long day, Mrs Hughes, and I don't yet feel like walking home," he explained. "Maybe we can continue our conversation over coffee. Of course if you're too busy." Richard tried not to look disappointed.

"Well, I. .." she started, about to protest, but not really finding cause to. "Of course, it's the least I can do for your trouble." She led him down the final flight of steps, her back to him as she tried to fathom why he would want to spend time with her, her head trying to reason that he was being polite.

Richard followed, a smile tweaking at his lips. For a moment she had seemed a little unsure of herself, then there had been a distinct change in her, a genuine smile forming on her lips, and he liked the fact he had put it there.

"There is a lot of you in this room, Mrs Hughes," he commented, examining the collection of ornaments on her mantle. While she had disappeared to prepare the coffee, she had left him alone in her sitting room. Richard had used the time to browse the collection on personal items displayed prominently on the dresser, trying to get a better picture of the woman who had suddenly began to drift into his thoughts at the strangest moments. Now that she had returned he felt a little guilty.

Elsie placed the tray carefully on the small table. "When you get to our age, you gather a lot of memories," she replied in a wistful tone, allowing her gaze to fall on what remained of her mothers china.

"Our age?" he teased.

"Well my age. Although you can't tell me you don't have a lifetime of bric a brac and junk in that cottage of yours." She poured the thick black liquid into the two cups. "Do you take milk?"

"Yes, thank you. I think somewhere I might have the first letter my mother wrote me at university," he admitted candidly. Mostly he hoarded books. "How long have you been at Downton?"

"Some days it feels like a lifetime, others like it was yesterday. Of course that depends on how tired I am, how long a day, or week, its been. I think Lady Sybil was just six when I came as Head Housemaid."

Richard took the offered cup and settled himself in one of the hard backed chairs at the table. It wasn't comfortable but then he couldn't imagine she relaxed long enough for anyone to get comfortable.

Elsie seated herself at the other. "I brought you some cake."

"You shouldn't have!" he chided half-heartedly. "Although I'm rather pleased you did. So have you have never considered leaving?" He asked, gently breaking pieces off of the cake and popping them into his mouth.

She shook her head with a bright smile. "Now why would I want to leave all this?"

"For marriage? Your own home?" he queried tentatively, knowing that they were moving into unfamiliar and possibly private territory.

Elsie ducked her head, staring at her hands as her thoughts drifted to Joe and his proposal. She had considered leaving once but only for a few hours and not really seriously. "I was proposed too, once, but I couldn't really see myself as a farmers wife."

"I can't imagine you as just a farmers wife," he commented dryly. "I'm sure you'd be a little more than that."

Her cheeks took on a pinkish hue. "He was lonely. All he wanted was a wife." She wasn't really sure why she said that, especially to him, but he seemed to understand.

"I may have the opposite problem," he said quietly. "I have been on my own for so long, am too set in my ways, to be of any use as a husband."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "If you believe that then you are a fool. I'm sure there are many women in the village, I can think of one in particular, that consider you husband material."

"They would, I assure you, be disappointed." That was not to say that women hadn't shown an interest, but he had gently persuaded them that he was not what they needed. Mrs Crawley, he feared, had yet to take his subtle hints, but in her case actions spoke louder than words.

An awkward silence descended over the room and he wondered if he had said too much but when he looked up she was concentrating on her hands, a wide grin on her face. "What?"

She shook her head and refused to meet his eyes. In truth she was suddenly very happy. The idea that he had no interest in taking a wife, of pursuing a relationship, even the fact he didn't believe anyone would want him made her feel slightly giddy. Not that he would want to marry her, she reminded herself but the notion that he too was destined to be single made her feel happy. She thanked god that she would never have to explain her thoughts to anyone because they didn't make any sense. Nor did the fact she was considering the doctor as anything more than a doctor.

Richard pursed his lips before asking casually, "When is your next half day?" She could, he mused, react in any number of ways to his question. He hoped she would at least conceal her horror or disgust, and let him down gently, as it was a big step for him to ask.

"A week Tuesday," she replied curiously, finally looking up at him. "If the girls are better."

"Do you have to be back for supper?" In for a penny, in for a pound, he decided.

Elsie sat up straighter in her chair, her smile widening, her heart beating a little faster. "Are you inviting me out for dinner?" Her tone sounded as surprised as she felt.

He shrugged. "Apparently I'm not doing a very good job of it."

"It's just . . . Well a little unexpected. Why?"

He bit back the sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue. "Because I would like to have dinner with you." It really was that simple, although a new experience for him.

"Where would we go?"

Richard pondered his answer. His first thought had been that they would have a quiet supper at the Grantham Arms, but on careful consideration he realised exactly what that would entail. "Somewhere in Ripon."

Elsie sipped her tea, contemplating whether she could make it to Ripon and still be back by ten. Her stomach did a small flutter when she realised it had never crossed her mind to decline his invitation. "I would like that very much," she finally replied after what seemed like an eternity.

"Well good. I'll meet you at the bus stop at six." He drained the cup of coffee and took another small bite of cake. "Unless of course I get called up here in the meantime."

She glanced down at her hands as an awkward silence once again descended on the room.

"I should go," he offered, sensing that he had outstayed his welcome. "You have things to do."

"There is always something to do," she agreed with a small contented smile.

A loud intruding knock echoed on the door. "Come."

"Begging your pardon, Mrs Hughes, but Mr Carson said to tell you that the ladies are in the drawing room. He said to tell you it will be about another half hour before the dining room is ready to clear. He said to tell you that . . ."

"Thank you," she said, not wanting to hear the poor girl repeat Mr Carson's long diatribe.

"Yes, Mrs Hughes."

Richard chuckled lightly. "Mr Carson certainly has a lot to say."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Sometimes a little too much. Sorry that sounds . . ."

"No, I understand." He rose to his feet. "Thank you for the coffee and cake. I'll have someone drop the medicine by tomorrow."

"Thank you for coming out. Would you like some cake to take with you?"

"I'm not sure Mr Carson would approve of that."

"I think there are many things Mr Carson may not approve of," Elsie offered, her tone laced with a mixture of sarcasm and teasing.

Richard arched an eyebrow. "And yet . . ."

"And yet, at my age, I find I don't care as much as I once did. And I remind you again, contrary to rumour, we're not married." She bit her lip nervously. "I don't know why . . ."

"It's alright. I find I'm rather glad that you aren't." He picked up his bag and moved towards the door. "Good night, Mrs Hughes."

Elsie watched him go, her mouth falling open as she realised what he had said, still sitting there, bemused, moments later when the housemaid returned to fetch her.


End file.
